


Revelation

by oohshiny



Category: DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman/Batman (Comics), Superman/Batman: Public Enemies
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Sibling Incest, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oohshiny/pseuds/oohshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during and after Public Enemies. </p><p>Clark begins to see Bruce in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for later chapters. 
> 
> I love both the graphic novel and the animation, but this will lean more toward the animation.

It all started with a look.

And a moment of weakness.

“His Presidency is the highest rated in decades.” Bruce said. He’d swiveled his chair from the console and now sat gazing at him, eyes unreadable behind the white lenses of his cowl.

Clark paced, and sighed. He really didn’t want to be having this conversation. It was his own fault though, _he_ was the one lingering in the bat cave because beyond natural disasters and purse snatchers, there was very little for him to do. He was even stupid enough to start the conversation! But it couldn’t be helped. He was feeling out of sorts and, lets face it, annoyed and frustrated because he _knew, just knew_ that Luthor was biding his time, playing at being the President. It gnawed at him constantly, and he needed to vent, to commiserate with _someone_ who knew things were too good to be true.

Instead he got Luthor’s record thrown back at him. As if Bruce was mocking him. Ok maybe not Bruce, but Batman surely. Batman, who held barely concealed disdain for everyone - maybe less for him, it was hard to tell. It surprised him that it didn’t bother him like it sometimes bothered the others. It didn’t bother him because he understood. Without any powers Batman went out and held his own in a world of super-powered bad guys. Night after night, he fought with nothing but his training and his gadgets. Heroes with powers, including Clark, had an edge and could afford to learn from serious mistakes. They could afford the luxury of one-liners and cocky attitudes. Clark knew that every time Bruce put on that suit, his mistakes could get him killed. It gave him gravitas and a right to that disdain. It also, Clark had to admit, made him a remarkable man.

“The economy is doing well, crime is down, we’re not at war. By all accounts he’s doing a good job.”

Although Bruce’s voice was noncommittal, Clark’s defenses immediately slammed up.

“You can’t be serious! Don’t defend him, you have to know he’s up to something!” For once he felt like he was the paranoid one instead of his friend in the black cowl.

Said friend’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Of course he’s up to something.” His face grew serious, “You let him get under your skin, it distracts you, makes you vulnerable.”

Of course Bruce was right. Clark could feel himself becoming more and more unhinged the longer Luthor was in office. The waiting was wearing him down, making him ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He sighed and felt his body deflate. Maybe this was Luthor’s game, to drive him insane with the waiting. Of course no one else felt the pressure like he did. Lex Luthor lived and breathed to see him dead. Scheme after scheme after scheme, rinse, repeat. He had too much money, when caught he always slithered away, gone to ground only to start again. It all inevitably ended with him. Clark sank to the floor of the cave, suddenly too weary to be bothered. Bruce was by his side instantly.

“We are as prepared as we can be. In the meantime, I’d advise you lock it down and do what you always do.” Bruce’s voice was low and had a quality he hadn’t heard before. Compassion?

Clark looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Bruce had removed his cowl, and Clark knew that if he didn’t have the ability to read his friend along with the ability to process information quickly, he would have missed it. He’d seen the requisite emotions from Bruce as Batman: annoyance, anger, satisfaction. He’d even seen faux joy and amusement on his face when he played the playboy billionaire. Other than that the man was reticent, as if the emotions he did have were reserved for empty rooms or maybe Alfred. But this was different. This was soft, and vulnerable as if he could not only feel Clark’s distress, but that he was distressed by it as well.

In less than a heartbeat, it was gone. Instantly he second-guessed. Maybe he saw what he _wanted_ to see. Which begged the question, _what did he want to see?_ Understanding. Confirmation that he wasn’t just paranoid. But this? This hit him lower than the satisfaction of understanding or confirmation. This stirred… _things_. Things possibly best left dormant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and his pesky feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of this narrative, Superman and Lois are just dating. Also since the chapters are relatively short, there shouldn't be much lag between postings. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented and given kudos!

This was becoming a habit.

The next night found him in the bat cave again. Upset and flying aimlessly, he hadn’t intended to invade Bruce’s sanctuary, but he had come to find comfort in that dark, bat-filled cave. The encounter with Captain Atom and the others had stung. He thought he hid it well, but he’d wanted nothing more than to punch Major Force into the upper atmosphere for his backhanded comment. No, he hadn’t been needed much lately. Yes, it made him feel useless. But joining Luthor’s government was a concession he refused to make. That was crossing a line, the fact that they were willing to believe in Luthor’s supposed redemption - when they had to know better - left him feeling hurt and betrayed. And so he’d gone to the only person who understood. As the familiar figure in black came into view, he felt relief wash over him, and that _something_ stirred in him again.

“Just in time. Our illustrious President is about to address the nation.”

“Don’t you have cable?” Clark asked as he parked himself behind Bruce’s chair. “Isn’t there a bad sitcom on?”

An amused sound emanated from the seated figure. It was a rare crack in that granite facade and Clark found himself reveling in it. He admonished himself. This has got to stop - even though he was reluctant to really identify what _this_ was.

As they waited for the broadcast, he deliberately derailed his thoughts to safer ground - Lois. When things got hard, she was his solace. _Then why aren’t you with her now? Why do you suddenly seek comfort in darkness?_ He squashed the traitorous thoughts and groped for sanctuary. Lois loved him and he loved her, was even thinking of asking her to marry him. Well, _Superman_ was. But Clark had yet to reveal himself to her - the timing never seemed right. _But you know that’s a lie, don’t you?_

He could use a convenient distracting disaster right about now.

Turning his thoughts to Lois was supposed to distract him from examining this _whatever_ with Bruce. But like trying not to think of an elephant, he was thinking of the elephant - or rather what was elephant adjacent. In wanting to avoid the truth, his mind was hell bent on showing him _some_ truth.

The timing never seemed right because he had his reasons for not going through with it. Now, those formerly plausible arguments were revealed to be nothing short of flimsy excuses. The last two that he held fast to: _it would put her in jeopardy_ and _it would put a strain on their working relationship_ …were so much bullshit. Right here, right now he could see that the only true reason was _him_.

Lois loved Superman. Superman was a persona just as much as Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet. He knew he wasn’t being fair to her, but he couldn’t help but believe that finding out that Superman was hiding in plain sight as her bumbling colleague would be more than a little disappointing. Clark - the real person and the persona - was so far out of her league it was embarrassing. She deserved to be with Superman and around her _that was all he wanted to be_. It was powerful, intoxicating, sexy as hell… and completely unrealistic. She had never seen the man behind the curtain, and showing her terrified him because _Clark the man_ would never be good enough for her. He shifted uneasily, aware that in the safety of this cave, he could see their relationship for the sham it was.

He looked down at the man at the console. So what made Bruce different? Why didn’t he feel the need to wear the facade, to be perfect around Bruce? Well, maybe not _perfect_ , but Bruce did inspire him to want to perform at his best - but that was in regard to the Mission, not the same thing at all. He didn’t have an answer, only the feeling. They’d managed to bond through their common goal and it was that bond that transcended the masks they’d had to wear. Clark could only assume that with no need or desire to pretend, he’d allowed himself to relax, taking every grunted greeting, every growled comment with good cheer. As his comfort level grew he even replied with good-natured teasing. Even though Bruce continued to wear his personas as protection against personal attachments, Clark knew that underneath it all their friendship was something he needn’t question and could always rely on. Before Bruce, the only people he could be himself with, with absolutely no expectations or conditions, were his parents. After he’d revealed himself as Superman, he realized that for perspective (and his sanity) that he needed another connection like that. For the longest time he thought that Lois would be that person, even while Bruce discreetly filled the role.

With Bruce’s focus still on the monitors, he let his gaze quietly rest on his form. Clark allowed himself this indulgence because he finally recognized what he’d been so unwilling to see. He let the smile form on his face as the feelings behind it surged within him. The relief of understanding and admitting what was right in front of him - even if it was just to himself - was exhilarating. He would love this man for the rest of his natural life and he’d never say a word. He had no desire to complicate their friendship or upset the status quo.

“My fellow Americans…”

His eyes flicked back up to the screen, the broadcast was starting. He’d managed to hold on to that smile for all of ten seconds.

***

Of course the meeting with Luthor was a trap, but Clark had been caught unawares by his physical reaction to the man - Luthor had made him sick, literally. It had unnerved him just long enough for Metallo to get in the first swing. Sometimes being invincible made him take things for granted. You’d think hanging around with Batman would rub off, make him more wary, but no. Speaking of the man, Clark had figured he’d be keeping an eye on the meeting although he hadn’t expected needing him to come to his aid. Together, the fight had been theirs to win, until Metallo got clever.

When the kryptonite shard pierced his flesh, Clark knew it was over. Lying at the bottom of that grave, he’d begun mentally preparing himself to die. But when Bruce jumped in and calmly strove to help him, his resolve grew. He lapsed into their familiar banter, quietly determined not to die on Batman’s watch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is just another tool in Bruce's arsenal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken certain liberties with the material.
> 
> Cookie crumbs in this chapter - but they are a-bakin!
> 
> Again, thanks to all who've commented and given kudos :-)!

“No!”

Frequently, when a person gets assaulted or are involved in a car crash, they’ll describe how the events seemed to occur in slow motion - every action defined and inevitable, with the person helpless to stop it. When Metallo shot Clark, that didn’t happen. Maybe because he was used to violence and frequently the one to start it, Bruce watched it unfold in horrific real-time. Detachment followed the initial shock. He was in a combat situation and Metallo was still a threat. It was only when Metallo was disabled that could he feel the dread and bone-deep sadness move in. He’d jumped into the grave fearing the worst.

The bullet had missed Clark’s heart - barely. There was a very real chance that he wouldn’t get the shard out before the wound closed. Of course Clark the eternal optimist would smile and joke with him when he was facing a gruesome, painful death. It was annoying, and inappropriate, and one of the reasons why Bruce loved him so damn much.

Bruce couldn’t say just when this beacon for all things right and good burned his way past his defenses and into his heart. All he’d done was greet him with suspicion which evolved into grudging respect, and then acceptance. Every time they’d run into each other, Clark was smiling, happy, _joking_. He even sought Bruce out on occasion, like he didn’t have better things to do. He was insidious, this one. But Bruce found himself looking forward to seeing him, and disappointed when he didn’t. He discovered a quick, intelligent mind behind those vivid blue eyes. When they teamed up they worked well together, each complementing the other, never hindering. Bruce was so used to denying himself - his feelings, his wants and desires - that his true feelings for the man caught him completely off guard.

To him however, what was probably the biggest surprise, was in finding out that he _could_ love. After losing his parents, and then losing himself - before finding himself again in his training and focus on his mission - love was the least important thing in his life. It was something for other people - he did what he did so they could love and live safely in his city. The most his worldview allowed for him was trust. It was a tool, useful and in some cases, necessary to do his job. Likewise, his love for Clark became another tool in his arsenal. Like all his tools, he used it to make himself better. He pushed farther, trained harder, sharpened his focus. And when the inevitable fantasies he denied himself found their way into his dreams, and he woke hard and aching, he did not take himself in hand and indulge in forbidden fantasy. Indulging would invite possibility, and allowing for the possible was a weakness and that was unacceptable. He ignored his body’s calls for satisfaction until the need subsided on its own or on the rare occasions that it didn’t, he called one of the willing warm bodies in his social coterie and took care of it that way. In those times, if said warm body was tall, muscular and blue-eyed, he didn’t dwell on the obvious. Bruce was nothing if not a master of channelling his desires elsewhere. The most he could allow himself was to take joy in camaraderie, in the occasional fights alongside each other and their playful banter. He was quite aware that the appearance was to the contrary, and that suited him just fine.

It was a risky escape maneuver, setting off that charge and using Clark’s body as a shield, but since he still had all his body parts, and dying by suffocation was off the table, it had been worth it. Too bad standing up without assistance was impossible. They’d managed to get back to the bat cave, although Bruce was aware that for most of the way he leaned on Clark more than Clark leaned on him.

With the shard safely stored in a lead container, Bruce could feel the iron bar that was his shoulders finally start to give. He’d left his cowl on to take advantage of it’s enhanced sight during the shard’s removal, but now he still didn’t want to take it off. Exposing himself now was not wise, he was still too raw, too vulnerable. As the adrenaline subsided, he could feel his emotions flooding the spaces it left behind. His fingertips tingled in phantom sensation of touching that deceptively soft skin. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head on Clark’s tanned expanse of chest, listen to his strong heart beat and let relief wash over him as he reassured himself that his world had been set right. _You sound like a fawning damsel._ Too much stimulus in so short a time had his guard down, allowing for silly flights of fancy. He needed time and space to pack things neatly away, to regain control.

Steeling his resolve to not make a fool of himself, he turned from the instrument table to find Clark looking at him. Gratitude, and something too dangerous to name danced in his eyes and Bruce locked his jaw to keep from smiling at the sight. Clark got up and moved slowly toward him. When he stopped he was close enough that Bruce could feel the warmth radiating from his body. _Was he always so warm?_ He’d been in the man’s personal space before and never noticed, but then again during those times he’d had other things to think about.

“I want to see your face.” Clark’s hand reached up to remove the cowl.

“Don’t.” Was all Bruce could manage as he fought to calm his breathing and reign in his feelings.

“I just wanted to look into your eyes when I said thank you. I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for you.” Clark’s smile was easy, and the deep tones in his voice strummed Bruce’s spiraling arousal.

“You can express your gratitude, but the cowl stays on.” Bruce tried for menacing, but to his own ears he sounded weak and breathless.

Clark leaned over and kissed him.

Bruce never kissed his warm bodies - at least not on the mouth. Kissing was intimate and therefore dangerous, always something to be avoided. Kissing Clark was all of those things, and so much more. It started out slow and tentative - as if he was afraid that Bruce would curse him and then haul off and risk breaking a hand to punch him. When no adverse reaction was forthcoming, Clark’s lips on his became firmer, more sure. There was a distinct possibility that Bruce whimpered in response. _Whimpered_. When a soft tongue patiently licked at his lips, begging permission, Bruce gave it gladly. He opened his mouth and welcomed Clark’s tongue to dance with his. It was joyous, _glorious_. Clark wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close, effectively trapping Bruce against his body. Once his body came into contact with Clark’s the remains of his control completely flaked away. He poured everything he had into that kiss, letting Clark see just how much he wanted to be nowhere else but with him at that moment. Even fully clothed, and through his armor, being in Clark’s arms felt better than he could have thought possible. His own hands came up to squeeze at powerful biceps - he hung on for dear life as Clark plundered his mouth. His cock was so hard and Clark’s mouth and body felt _so good_ that he couldn’t remember why this was ever a bad idea. Clark groaned deep in his throat as Bruce helplessly ground against him - his body having a mind of it’s own. They were both wearing too many clothes, but he didn’t want to stop the kiss to do anything about it.

And then Clark was gone.

Bewildered and breathless, Bruce looked up to see Clark standing with his back toward him. He was just about to say something when Alfred came into the room. Thankful for super-powered ears, he used that time to retreat.

The recriminations came instantly when he heard Clark’s reference to Lois. He descended the stairs calling himself all manner of fool, while the flames of arousal and self-hatred burned brightly within him. Once seated at the monitors he tore off his cowl and pressed callus-roughened hands to his eyes. _Stupid! How could you be so stupid?_

When Clark came down a few minutes later he’d managed to regain some control.

“Bruce…”

“What ever you’re going to say, don’t.” He said, perhaps more forcefully than he should have, his voice channeling the anger and disgust he felt for himself.

“Bruce…”

“Forget it, it was the kryptonite. I understand.” _Liar_.

“It _wasn’t_ the kryptonite! Kryptonite doesn’t effect me that way, never has.”

 _Dammit Clark!_ Didn’t he understand? If it was kryptonite he - _they_ \- could get past this.

Bruce forced himself to turn and look at Clark. He was wearing that same stupid expression he had in the med bay, the expression that promised soul deep kisses and the fulfillment of desires long held a bay. Clark approached him and kneeled so that they were at eye level.

“That kiss…” he broke off and took a deep breath. “I love you Bruce. I wasn’t going to say anything, I wasn’t! But with all that happened tonight… I needed you to know.”

“Really? Well what about me? Did it ever occur to you that _I_ might not need to know?”

The smile and tilt of his head told Bruce all he needed to know. “I know you feel the same, Bruce. You don’t kiss someone like that if you don’t…I _felt_ it, Bruce. You can sit there and try to tell me I’m wrong, but I know the truth.”

“And Lois?”

Did Clark actually look _ashamed_?

“Why do you think I never proposed? It’s you I really love, really want.”

“Love is for other people. This” - he gestured between them - “will only distract from the work. So whatever you think you felt, forget it.”

“Look at me and tell me truthfully, that you don’t love me. If you can do that, I’ll never bring it up again.”

Bruce opened his mouth…

“Remember, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

 _Bastard_. Bruce’s mouth snapped shut and he gave the man one of his best glares. “This discussion is over.”

“What if I don’t want it to be over?”

“Then you’ll be having it by yourself.” He said, turning back to the monitors, not missing the fond indulgent smile on Clark’s face. He was being _humored_. Clark seemed willing to let it go for now, which was good, it would give him time to shore up his defenses. When they came back to it, and Clark _would_ come back to it, Bruce would be ready and sure in his refusal. Maybe he couldn’t lie, but he damn well didn’t have to do anything about it. They couldn’t be together, given time, Clark would understand - he had to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is NOT coping very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public Enemies wraps here. There'll be one more chapter - with cookies! (I promise!)
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, commenting and giving kudos :-)!

Clark had been with Lois.

_Why do you think I never proposed? It’s you I really love, really want._

_Right_. Against all his protestations, Bruce really had wanted to believe Clark when he’d said it. Just hearing the words _I love you Bruce_ had made his soul sing. _You are such a sap_.  

Clark’s being with Lois was a good thing though, it meant that his momentary lapse could easily be explained away by the kryptonite. Maybe it was the exposure and then circulation in his bloodstream that made him lose his mind. What else would have Clark acting that way? Since he wasn’t one for duplicity, his telling him about his visit with Lois could only mean that his body had purged the toxin and things were on their way back to normal. And if Bruce felt disappointment at that, well then it just confirmed that he was being foolish. He’d told Clark nothing could happen between them, and now nothing is. He should be happy.

“What made you do it?” _Now who’s not letting this go?_ Bruce was beginning to think that he might have a tiny masochistic streak.

“I thought we weren’t talking about this?”

“Just answer the question.” Bruce was curious to know if Clark would acknowledge that the kryptonite had been a factor - that they’d discovered another effect of the radiation.  He needed them to be on the same page.

“The man I love had just saved my life - a mere _thank you_ felt inadequate.” He paused. “You know what really made me go for it though? When you wouldn’t let me remove the cowl, I knew you were hiding. What could you be hiding from me Bruce?” Clark’s voice had gone low and intimate and when had it gained the power to feel like a caress? 

“The man you love.” Bruce scoffed, recovering.  He mentally added the meteor’s proximity into the equation. “You’ve never been exposed to this much kryptonite before.  Just accept that it’s effecting your mind. Do you actually believe that this mythical _man you love_ would want to share you with Lois? I find that hard to believe.”

“I broke up with her tonight.”

…

“Did you hear me, Bruce? I said…”

“I _heard_ you.”  Bruce could barely get the words out, he was so angry. “Of all the impulsive, moronic…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, he was that livid. He took a breath. “Did you tell her _why_?”

“No, I just…”

 “Good because when this is all over, and you’re back to your senses, you _will_ call her and apologize and _hope to god_ that she forgives you for being so stupid.”  He didn’t wait for a reply as he was already using the wire to lower himself into Star Labs.

***

 

Bruce couldn’t have asked for a better gift than the endless bodies coming for him to beat on. 

When Clark told him he’d broken up with Lois, he’d wanted to wrap his hands around that thick neck and squeeze until the man had regained his senses.  Worse, the fact that Clark had dumped Lois for _him_ turned him on so damn much - _that_ made him even madder.  His life, while emotionally bland, _had been working_ \- who was Clark to come to him with kryptonite-induced declarations of love and fuck it all up?  Who was Clark to stir up desires that _were not his to have?_   The emotional turmoil should have made him sloppy - but it was just the opposite.  He focused and channeled it with laser precision. Every villain that had vexed him was coming for Clark - he _wanted_ them to come. Tonight they were fighting all-comers - friend, foe it did not matter - each and every one would be sorry they fucked with them tonight. 

***

_Sometimes you have to trust your instincts._

During the long flight to Tokyo, Clark’s words sat heavily in Bruce’s mind. He may have been talking to Power Girl, but he also addressed not only Clark’s own feelings, but also Bruce’s reluctance to accept the possibility that what they could have was real. 

_Trust your instincts._  

Bruce did trust his instincts - they had kept him alive on more than one occasion. 

_Trust your instincts._

But then again it was his instinct that had him dress up every night and go fight crime. He couldn’t say that was the sanest choice he’d ever made.   

_Trust your instincts._

How did he know that his instinct - and not his cock - was in control here? He didn’t, and that was the problem. He was incredibly under-versed in how to handle this. It had been _so_ much easier loving Clark from a distance. 

***

The robot was the most ridiculous thing Bruce had ever seen. Half Batman, half Superman - was the entire universe conspiring against him? The way Clark’s eyes sparkled when he looked at him told him that while his thoughts were the same, he didn't think it was a bad thing.

“You know…”

“Don’t, just…don’t.” 

“I was just going to say that he’s a smart kid.” Clark’s lips twisted in a wry smile.

***

The robot rocket was supposed to be piloted automatically. They could thank Luthor for having to scrap that plan. He was almost glad when Luthor prevented Clark from arguing with him about piloting the robot himself. They would have gone back and forth, wasting time when Bruce would have won in the end because he was the only one of them who could fly the thing. The argument would have dragged more emotion to light, would have drawn out his goodbye and to what end? As it was, the armor of his control was badly damaged and he feared it was beyond his ability to repair. If Toyman had been able to complete the programming of the automatic pilot, the robot would have destroyed the meteor. Everything would have gone back to normal - Clark would have recognized that his actions were due to an outside influence, Lois would forgive him and Bruce could have his life back. He was thoroughly ill-equipped to cope with the task of rebuilding his emotional defenses. 

This was why he’d never let himself dwell in fantasy. The _wanting_ was too great.  Bruce remembered the feel of Clark’s lips on his, being held by those bands of iron he called arms and _wanted_.  How was he supposed to stuff that away?

He didn’t want to die.  But dying was _easier_. 

_Coward_.

Maybe so. Toyman had assured them that this would work. Bruce had to believe that, and as a result Clark would be safe, wouldn’t he? The world would have their hero - what was more important than that? 

***

Living through the impact had been…unexpected.  

With the remains of the robot floating all around the life pod, he had no way of returning to earth. It was morbidly amusing that he had somehow cycled back to dying by suffocation. 

Bruce gazed out at the magnificent sight of the earth spread before him and felt content. Everyone was safe. _Clark_ was safe. He couldn’t really argue with the outcome.

***

He had thought the lack of air had made him hallucinate when he saw Clark floating in space, but when the pod started moving toward earth he understood that it was real. 

When he felt the warmth of Clark’s hand through his glove, that was probably a hallucination. 

The crowds were cheering, and Clark was real and beautiful standing beside him - it was all so surreal. 

Reality only slammed home when Lois’s helicopter flew by. He took a deep breath. He had felt death preferable to facing this, and called himself a coward for it.  Well, he lived didn’t he? Now, brick by agonizing brick, as he put himself back together, he would prove his accusation wrong.  As he made his way off the roof, he forced the memory of that kiss out of his thoughts, locking it away with the strength of his will. 

It was a start. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is acting out. Clark has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I thought this would be the last chapter. I was wrong. Apparently, Bruce's emotional journey will not be rushed! Stubborn, beautiful bastard that he is. So with any luck, the next chapter will be the last - but I make no promises!
> 
> Also, there is consensual sibling incest in this chapter. You can blame Bruce for that as well.
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, commenting and giving kudos - you guys rock!

Bruce had pretty much stopped sleeping. 

Every time he slept he saw Clark leaning over him, felt their lips touching… and so much more. No matter what he stuffed away when he was awake, as soon as he fell asleep it all played before him in vivid technicolor complete with touch-o-vision.  

Lack of sleep made it dangerous to go out, so instead he threw himself into making the social rounds he had been neglecting. His appearance surprised the regulars on the scene.

“Bruce darling, it’s been ages. Where _have_ you been keeping yourself?”

“Why, far away from _you_ dear.” He’d say with a laugh and a wink to let them know he was being wicked. 

Bound and determined to exorcise Clark from his system, he became a familiar face among high-society’s private sex party circuit, deciding that by exhausting himself sexually, he could finally regain some detachment. Everyone was thrilled to have him, even if he refused to take off the black silk pajama’s he wore. They allowed it because he was Bruce Wayne and because having him at their parties was worth so much more than the hassle of demanding he be naked like the rest.

Two of Gotham’s naughty society darlings - Antonia and Antonio, fraternal twins - had captured his attention. Both dark-haired and dark-eyed, they were stunning, hyper-sexual and not very bright. By the second week after his near-death, he’d sequestered them in the guest wing and fucked them non-stop, feeling insatiable.  When he was buried balls deep in Antonio’s ass while he ate out his sister, Bruce’s mind wiped clean of _him_ , and he was free.  

He never took them face to face, and Antonia was the first to complain. One afternoon while Antonio was supposed to be rolling a condom on Bruce so that he could fuck his sister - but was doing more playing with his dick than getting the job done - Antonia decided to roll on her back, spread her legs wide and open her pussy for him.

“I want to do it this way. I want to see you, kiss you while we fuck.” She said with a pout, while sliding her fingers through her wet folds.

Bruce batted Antonio’s hand away, and finished rolling on the condom.  Then he grabbed Antonia, flipped her over, grabbed her by the waist, and sunk his cock deeply within her. Rolling his hips, he set a deep and slow rhythm while reaching around to play with her clit. 

“Antonio, come kiss your sister.” Antonio happily complied, pulling on her nipples, and thrusting his tongue in her mouth. “I like it this way,” he growled, punctuating his words with a thrust that made her squeal, “because then I can watch the two of you together.” 

And that was the end of that.

 By the end of the week, with both complaining of condom-burn (he had to admit he was also a little sore), he’d sent them home.

Alfred thought it was PTSD.

“Master Bruce, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be Alfred, I’m fine. Besides, don’t you always say that I should get out, show my face?”

“Yes, but could you possibly be showing a bit _too_ much, sir? Is this the kind of attention that you want? Maybe you should see someone. You have been through a lot.”

“Oh? And what should I tell them? Y _ou see Doctor, I almost died saving the world from a radioactive meteor and I’m having trouble coping._ I don’t think so. I’m _fine_.” He didn’t like being short with Alfred, but Bruce couldn’t tell him the _real_ reason.

The next morning, when Bruce woke up refreshed and dream free, he suspected that Alfred had spiked his coffee. From then on he strove to tone it down, he didn’t like worrying Alfred; the man probably had a point.

***

It had been three weeks since the meteor and Clark had had enough. 

Bruce and his playthings were all over the gossip rags. He’d been to the cave a few times, but the equipment was cold - Bruce hadn’t been down in a while. 

 He looked over at Lois. He’d been to see her as Superman, and they’d talked. She’d been sad over the break-up, but she understood and appeared to be coping well. They parted as friends.

“…And last night, they were at a strip club!” Rosie, the Daily Planet’s gossip columnist had stopped by Lois’s desk and was passing on Bruce’s most current activities.

“Did they leave with any strippers?” 

“No, but from what I hear, they made a spectacle of themselves!”

They giggled and Clark snapped his pen.

“Ooh Smallville, jealous?” Lois asked with a leer.  Rosie giggled some more.

“I just don’t understand why everyone is so consumed with who he’s currently… _doing_!” Clark said as he tried to wipe the ink off his hand while keeping it from getting on his suit.

Lois passed him a bunch of napkins.

“ _Doing_?” Rosie asked, “baby, nobody says _doing_ anymore! You’re so cute.” She sauntered away, her ample behind swaying with each step.

 “Really Clark, not only is it the 21st century, but it’s incredibly sexy. All three of them are _gorgeous_ , don’t tell me you can’t look at them and think of all the delicious things they get up to!”

“But they’re brother and sister!” Clark had no idea that Lois had this side to her. Maybe he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

She shrugged. “The rich are different from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, apparently. Look, I gotta go wash this off, then follow-up on a lead. I’ll see you later.” 

“I hear lemon juice is good for that.”

He nodded and refrained from running away. He had to move before she noticed that the ink wasn’t staining his hands.  He’d also have to remember a lie that explained their spotless state when he saw her again.

He was going back to the cave tonight, and if Bruce wasn’t there which he strongly suspected would be the case, he’d knock on the front door. Either way, Bruce’s days of ignoring him were over.

 ***

They were supposed to be having dinner, but the food had been swept aside and Antonio was spread out on his back on the dining table with Bruce’s fingers deep in his ass. Abandoned to his pleasure, he’d stretched out and now gyrated furiously on Bruce’s hand. Antonia had her hand in Bruce’s open pants and slowly stroked his cock.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” She whispered in Bruce’s ear, breath hot on his neck.

“Fuck, yes.  And so responsive.”  When Antonio came, he clenched down so hard on Bruce’s fingers it made his dick jump. After he’d come down, Bruce swiped a hand though the cum on Antonio’s belly and stuck his fingers in Antonia’s mouth. 

“Show me how you’re going to suck my cock.”

Antonia gave him a wicked grin and happily complied, using her talented tongue to lick Bruce’s fingers mimicking what she planned to do to his dick. Bruce leaned back, smiling. _God damn this had been a good idea._

Alfred came to the door.

“Not now Alfred, I’m busy.”

“I can see that, Master Bruce. But I must insist, you have a visitor.”

_Who the hell?_ “Tell them to go away, unless they want to get naked.” That should get rid of them, or add another body to the party. Whatever.

“I doubt that would be wise, sir. He is a _super_ important individual.” Alfred was looking at him pointedly.

_Damn_.

Bruce could be an ass to his social circle, but being an ass in front of them to Superman? He could get away with a lot, and had, but that he suspected that would be the thing that would turn them against him. His charities needed their money. Flamboyant sexual displays titillated them - no matter how much they gossiped and turned their noses up in public - privately he knew, they got off on it. Publicly snubbing Superman - the world’s hero, the symbol of everything that was good and right - would have them turning their backs to him in a heartbeat. Once word got around, he’d never get another dime out of them. Clark was a good man, he would never do anything that would jeopardize those charities recipients, but Bruce knew that he’d been to the cave more than once. Clark coming here publicly meant that he was determined to see him.  Turning him away would up the ante and he didn’t know how far Clark was willing to push things. It was best to get the meeting over with so he could get back to the business of moving on.  

Sighing, he removed his fingers from Antonia’s mouth.  His cock had gone soft.

“I’m sorry my beautiful ones, but I’ll have to cut tonight short.”

“Aw, baby we can wait.” Antonia said, licking full lips.

Bruce was no longer interested. He stood and straightened his clothes. “No, you can’t.” The playboy facade easily sloughed away. He walked over to Alfred. “See them out, discreetly.” Whatever happened, those two didn’t have to know who his important visitor was.

“Of course, Master Bruce.”  Alfred nodded, waited for Antonio to finish dressing, and then ushered the twins out the side door. 

Bruce stopped in the nearest bathroom to wash his hands, and face and to clean his teeth. He wanted to take a shower, he hadn’t had sex with them yet today, but he still felt _unclean_. When he crossed the threshold of the sitting room, his legs stopped moving. Clark, in his uniform, was standing with his back to the door.  Bruce’s eyes caressed his tall frame and immediately shame ignited, burning brightly in his chest. 

“Are you happy?” Clark asked quietly. There was no reproach in his voice, only sincere inquiry. He still faced the window, but he’d angled his head toward Bruce when he spoke.

Bruce swallowed, and Clark turned around.

“Whatever you’re doing is your business. I just need to know that you’re happy.”

Bruce drank in his earnest face, unable to respond in any way. Clark moved toward him.

“I want you to know that I meant what I said. I’m still not with Lois, and I don’t regret that decision. You don’t want us to be together, fine. Just tell me that you’re happy, I need that. It’s all that matters.” He was standing so close now, and once again Bruce was hyperaware of the heat coming off him. 

“You can lie, it’s all right.” Clark whispered. His face was so open that Bruce could tell he meant it. Bruce could lie and say he was fine and that would be the end of it.

But Bruce couldn’t lie. He merely stood there, unable to confirm or deny, emotionally raw and helpless, while the contents of his stupidity - both pre and post meteor played out before him.  Bruce didn’t know what showed on his face, but Clark’s smile was fond, understanding.

“Maybe a kiss then?” As Clark spoke, he leaned in slowly, giving Bruce enough time to move away. “One… last… goodbye…” Their lips touched.

The kiss wasn’t as good as the last time - it was better.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be much longer than I expected. 
> 
> I'm tired and getting cross-eyed, but I wanted to post something today sInce I doubt I'll be able to post again until Monday. The choice was to save it all until Monday or break it up. I chose to break it up. Enjoy!
> 
> As always thanks to everyone reading, commenting, and giving kudos :-)

Clark had had two choices to vent his anger and jealousy after he left the Daily Planet. 

One was to fly to the moon and beat new craters into its surface - potentially knocking it out of orbit as a result; the other was in service - getting out of his own head by focusing on something other than himself. Wisely he chose the latter, and as a result, had a very busy day. Among other things, he’d stopped poachers in South Africa, captured a child’s wayward balloon in Hong Kong, and thwarted would-be carjackers outside Los Angeles. By the time he arrived in Gotham, his anger had turned to genuine concern.

 For three weeks he had cursed Bruce’s stubbornness, and it was only after seeing him did he understand just how deeply he was hurting. Bruce’s silence spoke of conflict, and his face of turmoil at his inability to reach out and accept what was being offered.  If Clark knew anything about him, he knew that Bruce habitually denied himself the things that he wanted. He supposed that not allowing himself the things that other people enjoyed was his penance for being helpless to save his family. Bruce didn't like being helpless, what he liked was being in control. 

He remembered a time, early on in their friendship, when he had tried to get Bruce to take a night off, to relax and see a movie. Bruce had looked at him as if he’d just spit on his mother. 

“Do you think _crime_ is taking a night off? Maybe the drug addict on the corner is just going to decide _not_ to mug somebody because they don’t need that hit?”

“Bruce, you know you can’t save everybody. Even you need a night off once in a while.”

“True, I can’t. But it doesn’t mean I can’t _try_.”

He’d stormed away leaving Clark with his mouth hanging open.  Bruce was a very smart man who could be stubborn at the best of times, and down right unreasonable at the worst. 

But right now Bruce stood before him flat-footed, so far off-guard that Clark hoped that finally - _finally_ \- they could talk without Bruce’s defenses getting in the way. Clark examined the man before him and his heart ached at what he saw. Bruce’s eyes had a hollowness to them - Clark had seen those eyes in people too haunted to sleep. His body was thinner, and his face looked slightly gaunt. He looked so… _lost_ , and so close to breaking. How one man could carry so much pain over something that should give him joy was beyond Clark. If he had just kept his hands and his mouth to himself, Bruce would not be in the state he was now. They could have gone on quietly loving each other, and Bruce would’ve been saved from this emotional upheaval. Regardless of what he wanted, Clark would give Bruce the out he needed to move on, to begin to heal. 

He had meant what he’d said about them not being together. He’d expected Bruce to relax and shoot off a snappy retort and then kick him out of his house. What he hadn’t expected was the longing that grew on Bruce’s face. It lured him into his space, drew his lips down to his mouth…

 Once their lips touched, Clark marveled at the sensation. The first time they kissed, he’d written it off as a fluke, as something requisite for a first time. But it was happening again, that heady cocktail of protectiveness, desire, arousal, and love that stormed within him. He wrapped his arms around Bruce and drew him in, determined that if this was the last time he was permitted to do this, he would enjoy it as long and as thoroughly as possible. Bruce moaned and used both hands to grab him behind the neck, mashing his mouth so hard onto his that Clark knew it had to hurt. He raised one hand and caressed Bruce’s face, gentling him. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause him any pain, even inadvertently. He pulled back after a few moments, but Bruce protested the move and tried to abort his retreat. When he couldn’t, his lips chased after, sounds of protest leaving his mouth.

“Shh, it’s ok.” Clark looked into wild eyes, eyes that filled with panic as he moved away. “It’s ok, I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.” He smiled before diving back into that beautiful mouth, feeling his heart swell at finally being able to kiss the man he loved for as long as he wanted. 

***

Somehow in the last few minutes, Bruce had transformed from a thinking human being into an incoherent ball of need. The way he went after Clark, it was hard to believe that he’d spent the last three weeks indulging in sex almost non-stop. Nothing was enough, he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t hold Clark firmly enough…he was terrified that at any moment Clark would pull away and tell him goodbye. Instead, Clark backed them up to the wall and pressed firmly against him. At first he couldn’t sync the rhythm - his was frantic, while Clark’s was slow and dirty. He eventually caught on - slow and dirty he found, was much more satisfying. The thought that Clark would fuck him like that had him moaning uncontrollably.

“You like that?” Clark had pulled back and asked, resting their foreheads together. His hips never stopped, but continued to deftly control their rhythm. Bruce had thought he knew what sexy was - until he’d heard Clark’s voice laced with arousal. 

“Yeah…” his own voice, while finally making an appearance in actual words, resembled a wrecked moan. 

“Then I think you’re gonna love this. I know I will.” Clark said before slithering down to his knees.

It had been in his dreams many times - Clark in his Superman uniform, kneeling before him. Nothing could have prepared him for how blazingly _hot_ it was in reality. 

Clark kept him pressed against the wall with one hand, while quickly opening and then pulling down his pants and boxers with the other. Bruce was way too turned on to handle what was about to happen. The second Clark’s hot tongue swiped its way along the underside of his dick, he came, _screaming_. And then blacked out.

***

It was a testament to Alfred’s professionalism that when Clark came to him - with an unconscious Bruce in his arms - and asked him where his bedroom was, that he merely blinked before showing him the way. 

“He hasn’t been sleeping, has he?” Clark asked, wanting confirmation of his suspicions.

Alfred had shown him into Bruce’s room, and Clark carefully placed him on the bed before sitting down beside him.  Alfred hadn’t answered him, and Clark supposed he wouldn’t.  After all, he was the keeper of Bruce’s secrets, and it really wasn’t Clark’s business. He was sure the man expected him to leave, and he would - in a minute.  He’d just wanted to indulge in the moment of quiet. He let his eyes caress Bruce’s face, happy to see the lines of tension and strain absent, even if it was only temporarily. When he stood up to go, Alfred was regarding him with intense concentration. They looked at each other for a moment and Clark let him see the depth of his feeling for the man on the bed, let him see that they were allied in his care and well-being. He had taken a step toward the door when Alfred finally answered his question.

“Not really, no. Even before the recent trouble, his nightly activities afforded him the bare minimum. Now, he barely gets that. I have been worried.”

Clark aborted the movement and sat back on the bed. Bruce had lapsed into a deep sleep, Clark reached for the throw at the bottom of the bed, and covered him with it. “I’ve been worried about him too.”

 “I’m afraid Master Bruce suffers from PTSD from his encounter with the meteor, and it is beyond my capability to help him.” 

Clark looked back up at Alfred. “That may be partly true, but not entirely. A lot of his pain is self-inflicted.”

Alfred sighed. “I cannot disagree.” He paused. “Master Bruce trusts you, sir. Do you think you can help him?”

Clark smiled, “I… _trust_ Bruce as well.  I will do my best.” His emphasis on the word _trust_ had brought a slight smile to Alfred’s face.

“It is my hope that you will, sir. Well, I have duties that need my attention. If you have need of me, please do not hesitate to call.”

Clark’s smile was not only bigger, it was relieved. “Thank you Alfred.”

“Thank _you_ , sir.” He nodded and left.

***

Bruce woke on his bed, fully clothed and snuggled under a throw.

“Well, it’s about time, any longer and I’d be out of a job.”

Rolling over, he saw Clark, barefoot and dressed casually in a shirt and khakis, lounging on the other side of the bed. He flopped onto his back and covered his face with his hands. “I haven’t done that since high school. Oh god, that was embarrassing.”

Clark chuckled. “What? Coming at the touch of a tongue on your dick or passing out afterwards?”

Bruce groaned, dropped his hands and stared at the ceiling. “Either? Both? Does it matter? You’d think I hadn’t spent the last three weeks fucking everything that moved.”

Clark’s laugh was happy and warm. “Well, maybe you just need to desensitize yourself to that particular stimulus.” 

Bruce turned his head and gazed at Clark. Clark put the book he’d been reading on the night table, rolled onto his side, propped his head on his hand and gazed back.

“How long was I out?”

Clark shrugged, “Twelve hours, give or take.”

“And you’re still here.”

“I am.” 

“Why?”

“Really, Bruce?” Clark, not having the good sense to be upset, just looked at him like he was the densest person on the planet. Maybe he was.

The last time he’d woken this refreshed, Alfred had spiked his coffee.  As he recalled, clarity had come the following morning. This rest had left him likewise restored. His overloaded body and mind had been finally allowed to sleep - leaving him feeling revitalized and recharged.  With his mind clear, he could see how much he’d hurt Clark. His skin crawled with the shame, he felt filthy.

“What I mean is - I’ve been an ass.  No, I’ve been _worse_. These past weeks alone, how can you stand to even _touch_ me? I need a shower.” He scrambled up and rushed into the adjoining bathroom.

“I’ll be here.” Clark called behind him as he left.

With the water as hot as he could stand it, Bruce stood under the multiple nozzles and hoped it would be enough to cleanse him. Suddenly he’d been glad that he’d used the guest wing for his aberrant activities, if he’d used his own bedroom, he knew he’d have to burn everything in it.   

He’d been so sure, hadn’t he? So determined to protect and deny himself that he hadn’t even bothered to contact Clark to confirm his suspicions. He’d just assumed he was right and then let the pain of that assumption consume him. He thunked his head lightly against the granite. He could be such an idiot. And to what end? What had he gained? Besides a reputation as a sex-drunk man with more money than sense - not a damn thing.

What had Bruce shaking his head in wonder and not a little gratitude though, was the fact that _Clark was still here_. An implacable, impervious, literal pillar of strength for Bruce to hang on to. How could he not see this before? If things worked between them, they worked. If they didn’t, they didn’t. But to not even _consider_ it because of what? Some half-assed quasi-noble principle? He thunked his head again. In the light of day that seemed stupid, even to him.

***

Clark had abandoned the bed and moved over to the balcony doors while he waited for Bruce to finish with his shower. He’d wanted a more neutral place, a place that didn’t broadcast his desires.  Both times they had kissed, Clark had been swept away by his own hunger - he hadn’t asked, so much as taken. Regardless of the outcomes each time, it had been manipulative.  He had to step back and let Bruce decide. He’d been selfish and now it was time to stop.

When Bruce entered the room, he turned to greet him.  Freshly showered and shaved, Bruce looked radiant and relaxed in white silk pajama bottoms. Pleased surprise and relief lit his features - apparently he had expected him to be gone.

“I told you I’d be here.” He said with a smile. 

“You did.” Bruce whispered.

They stared at each other. Clark could read no turmoil in Bruce’s expression, but the longer they stared, the more guarded his features became.  He wanted so badly to rush over and take Bruce into his arms and kiss him until he was moaning and breathless, but he made himself wait. This was Bruce’s choice. Either he would come to him, and open the door for them to become more - or - he would dismiss him and go about his day, and they’d continue on as friends. In the harsh light of day, they both had to acknowledge and believe that they wanted the same things. 

 Bruce took a deep breath, and let it out - immediately halting and then reversing the encroaching guardedness in his features. Then he slowly and deliberately reached up and pulled the tie of his pants. Once the tie was loosened, the pants slid down his legs and pooled at his feet. Clark’s mouth went slack and he let his eyes roam freely. They tracked the scars that littered the skin covering his leanly muscled body, before finally resting on his half-hard cock. Under his lingering gaze it grew to full hardness, standing straight and proud from his strong body. Clark licked his lips, remembering how close he came to having that thick beauty in his mouth. When he raised his eyes to Bruce’s face again, he was awed by what he saw there. 

“You know, I never let them see me.” Bruce whispered, as he walked toward him.

“Never?” Clark whispered back.

“No. Never let them see me.  Never took them face-to face. Never kissed them on the mouth.” 

Bruce’s expression was the most open he’d ever seen it - he wasn’t at war with himself, or trying to hide. He was nervous, but he was trusting Clark enough to show him _everything_.  Clark swallowed, momentarily overwhelmed. He knew how much this was costing Bruce, and he was humbled to receive his most precious gift. 

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”

It barely took a blink of the eye for Clark to remove his clothes. 

“How’s this?”

“Better.” Bruce said before leaning over and kissing him.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finally comes around. Clark is beyond thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this, I figured a little Public Enemies and then - BOOM - _sex_. Yeah, we see how that turned out! LOL 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting and giving kudos. This was my first fic and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :-)!

As Bruce stood there staring at Clark, he could feel his defenses reassembling themselves. 

As it turned out, making the decision was one thing, actually following through with it, was quite another. 

_Trust your instincts._

But which one? The one that demanded that he protect himself at any cost, or the one that told him to let go and love this man? Weren’t they mutually exclusive? Looking at Clark, he realized that they didn’t have to be. He’d already lost his heart to the man, and hadn’t Clark done everything in his power to protect it, protect _him_? Between the two of them, the only one who proved to be the detriment, was himself.  With that in mind, while anchoring his gaze on Clark, he took a breath and let everything go - including his clothes. 

The kiss felt like coming home.

True they had shared others, but compared to this one, they were mere shadows and smoke. This one wasn’t the surprised, exploratory kiss of a first time nor was it frantic and sexually charged. Slow and languid, it whispered of love, trust, and acknowledged fear.  Bruce was in no hurry, and took delight in the pleasurable sensation of his naked body sliding against Clark’s deliciously warm skin. Throughout the kiss, he let his hands roam, caressing, exploring. He’d once thought of Clark’s arms as iron bands covered by soft skin - but that wasn’t quite right.  There was a resilience - his skin and muscle may be dense and impenetrable, but he was _alive_ where iron was not. To be embraced by that strength and power, to feel the evidence of Clark’s arousal at his hip, was exhilarating.  When he pulled back, Clark peppered his mouth and throat with kisses before gracefully going down on his knees.

“I believe this is where we left off.” He said, nuzzling at the space between Bruce’s cock and balls before placing a kiss there. He looked at Bruce with playful intent. “Think I can get you to pass out again?”

“Fifty says you can’t.” Bruce said, crossing his arms and trying for a sneer -but ending up with a lopsided smile.

“Someone’s feeling cocky.”

Before he could laugh, Clark had gone to work. Bruce was actually pleased with himself when the first swipe of that hot tongue along the underside of his dick, left him panting - but still on his feet. Clark’s eyes met his, and he watched as his cock was slowly engulfed by his hot mouth. Bruce’s knees buckled and he let out a low moan as he pitched forward, latching onto Clark’s sturdy shoulders for balance.  When his hips stuttered, he strained to keep them still. He could tell Clark was inexperienced and he didn’t want to make the experience unpleasant by fucking his mouth the way he wanted to.  Not everyone liked that - not knowing his preferences made him hold back. But then Clark grabbed his ass and _pulled_. 

“You… you sure?” 

Clark rolled his eyes and moaned, and when Bruce cried out, he did it again - and Bruce let go. With strong sure thrusts, he fucked Clark’s mouth. Clark took him into his throat easily and continued to moan as Bruce took his pleasure. At some point, Clark had taken himself in hand and the sounds of his wet flesh sliding though his hand, combined with the perfect wet heat of his mouth, hurled Bruce over the edge. His orgasm took him hard, afterwards his legs crumbled, and Clark let him go, easing him down to the floor beside him. Immediately, he grabbed Clark’s face for a kiss - chasing the taste of himself in his mouth. When it was over, they sat there grinning like fools.

“I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

“I just need more practice - what do you say to two out of three?”

Bruce just threw his head back and laughed, his body loose and happy.

“I know one thing,” Clark said before standing and scooping him up and then plopping him on the bed, “we are not doing this on the floor.”

Bruce thought to protest being hauled around, but he let Clark have his way.

“Tell you what,” he said, reaching into the nightstand, grabbing the lube and handing it to Clark, “you do the honors and we can forget all about the fifty you owe me.”

Clark looked at him, uncertain.  “But I just figured…you’re the one that’s experienced here.”

“Tab A goes into Slot B - it’s not that hard.”

Clark’s look turned incredulous. “ _Tab A and Slot B_? Are you _kidding_ me?”

 Bruce chuckled at the absurdity, and urged Clark to nestle between his legs.  After kissing him lightly on the lips he said, “Yeah, I have experience, but not the experience that counts. With you.”

“But what if I hurt you? I don’t want to hurt you, Bruce.”

“Did you ever hurt Lois?”

“Well, no. But…”

“No, buts. I want to feel you inside me.” He paused. “Clark, I _want_ this.” He said, trying to make Clark understand.

Clark’s eyes grew wide and he surged forward, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Bruce smiled and caressed his beautiful face. “Yeah I think I do. Because you do the same to me.”

Clark slid a thick, slick finger into him, making him jump.  Instantly, he pulled out. “Sorry! Oh my god, are you ok?” 

Bruce smiled in reassurance. “I’m fine. Honest,” he said to Clark’s dubious look. “Its just that I’ve never actually been the recipient.”

“Oh. We don’t…”

“Clark, I swear to god, if you don’t get on with it…” 

“Okay, okay! Even in bed you’re bossy.” 

When his finger returned, it was slower, more tentative. Using copious amounts of lube, Clark slowly and gently prepared him. After a while, Bruce was hard again, and avidly fucking his ass on Clark’s hand.

“Look at you, so beautiful.”

“Less talking, more fucking.”

Clark lined himself up and slowly pressed inside. He was big - thick and long - and Bruce soon questioned the wisdom of his plan. Now was a piss-poor time to question these things, and he didn’t want to stop - but, it _hurt_. Clark, who was watching him closely, must have seen the strain on his face and he stopped immediately.

“I’m hurting you.” He started to pull away.

“No!” Bruce wrapped his legs around him to prevent his moving away. Clark let him halt his progress. “I’ll adjust, I want this.”

Clark rolled them over. “Ok, but you’re in control. Take your time and take what you can.”

A shiver stole up Bruce’s spine at Clark’s words and request. He planted his hands on Clark’s chest and started rocking, slowly working that huge cock up his ass. “Take what I can?” He was panting now. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

Clark’s hands rose and swept over his chest a few times, stopping at his nipples. He set up an alternating pinching rhythm, balancing Bruce between pleasure and pain. Steadily moaning and rocking, Bruce finally had that hard, hot column of flesh lodged deeply inside him. After a few shallow test movements, he rose up and came down hard, when he rose up again, Clark stopped him. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he had to open them to look at Clark before asking him what the problem was. He was instantly captivated - Clark looked so _wrecked_.

“Don’t move, don'tmovedon’tmove. I…just… wait…”

With mischief in mind, Bruce clenched his inner muscles. 

“Bruuuce…”  Clark’s face contorted with the effort of holding back, and his voice was choked and strained. 

Bruce wanted nothing more at that moment than to see Clark come. He ignored the aching in his cock, and the delicious feeling of having Clark up his ass, to pursue that one goal. He clenched again. Immediately, Clark’s hands on him went slack, the rest of his body tensed and with a deep moaning cry, he came. Bruce could feel the hot jets of his cum making him wetter and wetter, there was so much that it leaked out and slid down his thighs. He reached for his own cock to finish himself when Clark grabbed his wrist. 

“Uh huh.”

He rolled them over, slid in balls deep, and began pumping his hips steadily in long strokes. Overjoyed that they weren’t done, Bruce threw his head back and basked in the sensation. Clark shifted a few times until he cried out in unadulterated ecstasy.

“There it is.” He said, sounding smug.  

But Bruce was way beyond stringing two words together to call him on it. He just let himself go, wallowing in the incredible amount of pleasure Clark was giving him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he reached for his cock. Clark battled his hand away, but didn’t replace it with his. 

“Wha…?” 

“Oh no.” Clark said, his voice low. He leaned over and spoke directly into his ear as he continued to pound his ass. “You don’t need that. I’ve seen it. If you come at all, you’ll come on my dick.”

Bruce moaned at his words, turned on beyond belief but afraid that last night was a fluke. He reached again, and again Clark refused him.

 “Please…” 

Their eyes locked. 

“Come for me.” Clark said in that voice that made him crazy. 

Bruce cried out and was coming within a few thrusts. With a bellow, Clark followed soon after.

They lay together, indulging in light kisses as they came down.  Once they did, Clark gently pulled out, and lay down beside him, gathering him in his arms. The feel of Clark’s cum leaking out of him left Bruce feeling deliciously dirty. Although Alfred had definitely seen worse, he figured he’d do the man a favor and wash his own sheets.  

Clark scuttled them over to a dry spot and snuggled in.

“Oh god, you’re a snuggler. It figures.” Bruce mock-complained.

Clark only gathered him closer and hummed in response, already dozing off. Satisfied in heart, body and mind, Bruce followed him into sleep shortly after.

***

From the position of the sun, Clark figured he hadn’t slept long - maybe an hour.  He looked up to see Bruce propped up on the headboard staring at him. 

“Hey.” He said, stretching.

“Hey, yourself.”

“You ok?” 

Bruce’s smile was dazzling, and full of love. “I’m fine. A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Clark relaxed and smiled back. “I’m glad.”

“I am starving though. Thinking of having Alfred whip up a late lunch. You staying?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then, I’m staying.”

Bruce paused, and looked toward the balcony. “I was thinking of going out tonight.”

“Yeah?” Clark was thrilled, it meant that Bruce was going to be ok. 

“Yeah. Batman’s been gone too long, undoubtedly some have taken advantage. I’m looking forward to setting them straight.”

“You’ve got a few hours until then, I can figure out some ways to help you pass the time.”  Clark said as he reached up and pulled Bruce down into his arms. 

He took a moment to just look. When he had first recognized his feelings for the beautiful man in his arms, he never thought he’d ever have the chance for a moment like this.  He cupped Bruce’s jaw with one hand, and then kissed him. 

“I love you.”

Bruce smiled, “I know.”

They fell into each other, laughing. 

“I can’t believe you just quoted, Han Solo at me.” 

“Why? Han is a scoundrel. If either of us is a scoundrel, it would be me.”  

“Then, that would make me Leia?”  

“Why not? Leia's hot. But if it makes you feel better, you can be Chewie.” 

“It really doesn’t.”

“Fine.” Bruce sighed.  He paused for a moment, just looking. “I love you too, Clark. He said, before pulling him in for another kiss. 

END

 


End file.
